


Time

by jb_98



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark, Draco Malfoy is a Little Shit, F/M, Manipulative Albus Dumbledore, Manipulative Tom Riddle, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Tom Riddle, Psychopaths In Love, Time Travel, dramione - Freeform, psychopathic tom riddle, shit is about to go down, tomione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:13:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23987923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jb_98/pseuds/jb_98
Summary: Hermione knew what she had to do. Bad things happen to those who meddle with Time but nothing could be worse than this
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Tom Riddle, Hermione Granger/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Comments: 8
Kudos: 31





	Time

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so I started this back in 2018 on FFN but then uni became too busy I genuinely forgot all about it. Just found this in my documents and as it is lockdown currently I thought I may as well carry writing it. So I hope you enjoy!

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Over and over again.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Never faltering in its predictability.

Tick. Tick. Tick. The repetitiveness of it all was making her brain , in the back of her mind, she knew that it was the clock. Just a mundane lump of plastic hammered into the drywall of the lecture theatre.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

But wait-

That is not the case at all. Quite the opposite, really. A clock is anything but mundane. Clocks are complex machinery, finessed in the art of projecting time. Tick. Tick. Tick. Clocks are fascinating. The mainspring unwinds releasing bouts of energy; energy that rotates the gears and ultimately causes the hands to move. Tick. Tick. Tick. Complex indeed. The same could be said for time. Now time was an interesting notion. Man-made in its proceedings and yet relied on heavily by pretty much everyone. Hermione Granger had dabbled with Time. Oh yes, she had dabbled all right. Too much, in fact.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

At only nineteen years old, she had done so much and seen so much; a lifetime's worth of things. Things she wished to forget that, unfortunately, could never be erased from her eidetic memory. Hermione knew the only way to achieve that goal would be to do what she had done to her poor unsuspecting parents, too herself. Obliviate. Even after all that she had endured during the War – being tortured by the merciless Bellatrix Lestrange, her friends dropping life flies, Harry's death – altering her parent's memories was still one of the most heart-breaking things Hermione ever had to do. It had almost killed her to speak those words. And yet she had done it. For the greater good as Professor Dumbledore would say. Not that his words mattered anymore. It's not like anything mattered anymore. Because everything they had done; everything they had sacrificed had all been for nothing. They had lost.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

They had bloody lost! Hermione had been so sure that they were going to win. After destroying all of his horcruxes it should have been easy! Harry had been so confident, so sure of himself and his ability to beat the most powerful wizard to have ever lived. Love had been the key last time. But even love could not have saved Harry this time. They should have planned for it. She of all people should have realised that he would have a back up plan in store in the case that his horcruxes failed. Hermione would never forget the look on her best friend's face – on Ron's face – when the backfired killing curse had no effect on Lord Voldemort. The man didn't even stumble. Man. If you could even call him that. He was more reptile than man. In that moment she had been forced to witness Harry Potter's tragic death and feel her own heart break in the process. Suddenly, any hope they had about winning this war had been squandered. The prophecy foretold that only Harry could defeat him. Neither can live whilst the other survives. The Dark Lord and his followers hadn't even waited long enough for Harry's body go cold before they descended on the rest of them. All it took was one moment, and suddenly Hermione's friends were dropping like flies. Dean, Seamus, Neville, Luna, Ginny, Ron.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

As Hermione sat in the muggle lecture theatre – eyes never straying from the spot she was expected to be looking at, as a way of blending in – she could still see Ronald Weasley's bright blue eyes twinkling in her peripherals. The boy she had grown up with; who she had fancied herself in love with. She would never know if it was meant to be. He had stolen away their shot at happiness. Their shot at what could have been. Hermione could feel her heart break just a little more. It always did when her thoughts cast a light over her very recent past. Hermione's heart ached knowing she was the only member of the Golden Trio left.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

After her friends had fallen to the wands of Lord Voldemort and his retched Death Eaters, she had been forced to make a quick exit. She, of course, had wanted to stay and fight the valiant fight. At that moment in her life she hadn't even cared that she would have probably fallen to one of the many stray curses flying across the battle field; a place that she had once called home. But Kingsley Shacklebot – Auror extraordinaire and trusted Order member – had forced her to apparate away from the battle; away from her dead friends. And the strangest thing happened. Just has Hermione was about to follow Kingsley's orders and apparate to safety she could feel herself being watched. She could almost feel the cold, red eyes burning into her soul. No! She told herself that she was not going die that night. Not like her friends! For a split second she'd met those eyes, almost afraid to see what she'd find. But to her surprise she found that he was not staring at her with anger or disgust as she had expected to find. Instead there was a curious gleam to his red serpentine eyes. In a matter of seconds, he was smirking at her. There was no stopping the shudder that had overcame her in that moment. Hermione could feel her magic tugging at her as she apparated. And yet the feeling of being tugged through a test tube had been the last thing on her mind, and she instead was left with just one question. Why was The Dark Lord happy with her escape?

Tick. Tick. Tick.

And that's how Hermione had landed herself in the place that she was. She had camped for several months in many of the places she had camped with the boys. Hermione had realised that she still had several months' worth of food and supplies and so she had decided that staying away from any know wizarding areas would be her best solution. This had given Hermione time to plan. And plan she did. Hermione had managed to forge some muggle documents in order for her to slip back into the muggle world. She knew that if people were looking for her – which they almost certainly were – that they'd expect her to run far and wide, never expecting her to stay in once place at a time. That's why she had chosen to hide in plain sight. She had decided that staying at a muggle university would allow her to stay hidden and plan from the inside. And it had worked. Hermione had never been captured. But as much as she wanted to stay hidden she understood that she had to act out the next phase of her plan.

Tick. Tick. Tick

The clock was loud. Time was of the essence. Hermione didn't have much time and yet, Hermione Granger had all of the time in the world. The clock was loud, but hers was louder. Hermione glanced down, fiddling with the golden chain around her neck. The hourglass shimmered.

The 1940s wouldn't know what hit them.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's only short at the moment but I've got some things planned. Also currently writing a Reylo a/b/o story currently so if that sounds like something you'd enjoy please go check it out! Please leave kudos and comments and let me know if this is worth continuing! :)


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